I Keep This Void Deep Within me Lest It Swallow Me Whole
by Cotton Candye
Summary: The Definition of Insanity: Saving the galaxy again and again, but expecting everyone around Meetra not to betray her, be betrayed by her, or die. The Scientific Method: Saving the galaxy again and again, hoping the last few times were flukes (and maybe they are). KOTOR II Fic featuring F!Exile


This one-shot takes place as the crew are preparing to leave Nar Shaddaa after meeting Zez-Kai Ell. They've gone to Dxun/Onderon once already, and have picked up Mandalore.

* * *

"Alright, hyperdrive engaged, en route to Dantooine now. Should be a week, maybe a day less with the power of this baby's engines." Atton broadcast, before making his way to the main hold and propping his feet up.

The party had narrowly escaped Nar Shaddaa, finding Jedi Master Zez-Kai Ell within its seedy underbelly, and were now headed to search for the next, Vrook Lamar, every padawan's favourite master to hate.

As Jedi Exile Meetra Surik emptied her mind, finally given a reprieve after the _interesting_ experience of being knocked out twice in a week and needing to fight through a horde of enemies while half-conscious both times, her mind flitted its way to the subject of the pilot who'd just announced their successful entry of hyperspace. Specifically, the recollection of what she'd _felt_ about Atton on board the yacht.

"Atton, I didn't have a chance to bring it up back there when we were jumping from one frying pan into another in that bantha-turd of a system, but I thought I felt you reach out to me through the Force when you all were trying to find me on Goto's ship. Tell me the truth, please. No jokes, no deflections. Are you Force-sensitive?"

Meetra _looked_ like she wanted an answer in the negative, though Atton didn't see what the big deal was. Sure, back in the day he'd been terrified that someone would out him and his 'method' for Jedi hunting, and he'd had a constant fear of being hunted down himself to be converted to a Dark Jedi or murdered, but nowadays everybody and their grandmother was trying to kill him anyways, so his concerns had grown to bigger things, and he'd moved on.

Then Atton remembered _why_ he'd met the Exile in the first place on that rock in the Peragus system. She'd introduced herself as Enola Em-Evael, some nobody, but nobodies didn't get rooms on Republic cruisers by themselves, nobodies didn't have Force bonds with cranky old witches, and nobodies definitely didn't get cut off from the Force by an entire council of Jedi for leading troops to the destruction of a planet.

That planetary genocide had been orchestrated by Meetra's closest Jedi allies lying to her face that the weapon she possessed would be completely safe for her troops, causing her to send nearly an entire Republic fleet to their doom. The use of the weapon had also kicked off a chain of events that saw those same two Jedi return as Sith and wipe out as many non-Sith Force users as possible before the current crop of assassins had finished the job. The event had caused Meetra to break, and exile herself, rolling around in a ball of depression for the past ten years as she bounced between systems in the Unknown Regions, keeping prying eyes away from her,

and cutting the world away from herself.

Atton had seen her, in their room on Citadel Station, sitting in front of the terminal in lieu of meditating with that witch Kreia, just scrolling through lists and lists of Jedi, missing and killed. He'd pretended to be asleep, of course, not knowing then exactly what he was intruding on, but he'd watched her despair grow larger and larger, until finally she stopped scrolling and just sat, empty, her Force signature a void, and he'd realized that anybody she had known before had most likely said their final goodbyes to her a full decade ago at least.

He could not imagine the soul-tearing burden of having scores of allies and friends just disappear from his life; he may have been alone until the Exile showed up, but he hadn't fallen very far to that bottom. Even if he couldn't relate to Meetra in this regard, Atton thought he could understand her emptiness that day learning about the eradication of everything she'd held dear in her past life, especially now that they'd revealed their pasts to each other. He had always been a lone wolf, never having had any friends, as every new friend was a new potential backstabber, so before the Exile had swept him up on this grand quest of theirs, being alone had been pretty much his norm. A shining star like Meetra Surik, former Jedi General, however? The higher they climb…

He snapped back to the present, realizing that he was being stared at, the woman's eyes becoming duller, her face blanker, and her force signature growing emptier (becoming that _blasted_ void again) as she waited for a response. Atton opened his mouth, intent on saying something to break the spiral he could see her emotions throwing her down, but nothing came out. He could play Pazaak in his head all he wanted, but he knew if he lied here, Meetra would _know._ And if he uttered the truth, she would only break faster.

Kreia spoke up from her spot in the corner, no longer content to merely watch the impasse. "Look within yourself, Exile. You know the truth. Running from this will not make it go away, just as running from the cause of your exile did not erase your crimes. Your capacity to bond and nurture perhaps contributed to the scoundrel's latent ability, but it is ability he has."

After a beat, the Exile looked back at Atton as if to dare him to tell her that she was wrong, that she'd somehow made a mistake, that he wasn't as fragile or fickle as all the other force sensitives who'd found ways to leave her behind.

Seeing him still frozen, standing there with no idea what to say and guessing(knowing) that he _couldn't_ say anything to make Meetra feel better, she choked back a sob before she slid down the wall, the floor arresting her fall, splaying her legs out in front of her momentarily until she gathered her knees into her chest with slow, unfocused movements, looking like she wanted nothing more than to pull her limbs further and further into herself until she disappeared from the world. She tried to raise her head up to match Atton's worried gaze, but her eyes got only as far as his chest before she settled with just trying to keep her head level and began to speak.

"Force, Atton. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. You didn't deserve me dragging you along, like I did to everyone else. You deserved to get away from me after all this and live a happy life, free from having the world hang in your balance. If I'd known what I'd do to you, unlock in you, by bringing you with me all this way, I'd have dropped you off at Citadel Station without a second thought. No one should have to suffer under me like this. Never again. The Force's cruel tricks should only be reserved for one victim. You never asked to be on this ride with me." The Exile sobbed, pitch rising with her words and tears tracing scars as they carved down her cheeks, revealing wounds on her flesh and soul alike.

Atton was at a loss for what to do, but he knew he couldn't watch this woman break down, alone. After all they'd done for each other, and been through together this past month, he felt an overwhelming duty to Meetra to not let the broken woman drown herself in the black cloud she'd wrapped around herself.

He hesitantly took a step forward before kneeling down, willing the Exile to finally bring herself to look into his eyes and see truth as he spoke gently, so as to not shatter whatever walls she had left against her personal miasma of darkness.

"Hey, look. I know it's not all sunshine and rainbows for you, pretty much ever, but you have to trust me when I say from the bottom of my heart, that what I've learned about you since I met you back at Peragus, is that the Force likes to deal you with bad hands, and bad draws, and hard opponents. But you play your heart out, every round. Even when you hit on 11 and end up with 21 for your troubles, you always move forwards. From fighting that impossible war to stop us all speaking Mando'a, the hellscapes you lived through then, to the life-or-death struggles we're going through right now, every day, that those stuffy Jedi archivists are going to make crummy holocrons about hundreds of years down the road, you've kept going.

And maybe me having a tiny spark of Force within my head or soul or whatever is bringing your mind back to all the games you've lost, but trust me when I say that this time, it can be _different_. Don't think of me as another card drawn to make you go bust. Think of me as that +1/-1 you've never had in your side deck. Even if you don't believe in yourself, and I sure as shit don't understand why you don't, believe in me. Believe in us.

Believe in the person who was with you through killer droids and a ghost ship filled with assassins. Believe in the person who went through that shitshow at Malachor with you and still trusts you as his general. Believe in the stowaway, sent by your old master, who sees the best in you, even though you kicked her ass first chance you had. Believe in the Mando'a who's trying to build his side back up from what the Republic did, but saw your cause worth fighting for first. Believe in the spunky chick who knocked you out when you were about to walk into a trap just so she could take your place on the receiving end of the ambush. Believe in even that old hag over there glaring through her hood at me for daring to be within five feet of you right now.

You don't have to hold the world up by yourself anymore, Meetch. Shovel some poodoo onto our plates."

Atton thought he'd _royally_ messed up in his efforts to reassure Meetra when he heard what sounded like a half-stifled sob come from her lips, but he was reassured when she looked up at him, actually looked up this time, and he saw she was laughing. Sure, tears were still making train tracks down her face, and the laughter sounded more like hiccuping than anything else, but he'd gotten through to her at least.

"We heard a commotion in here, but we did not feel it right to intrude. Is everyone at peace?" Brianna spoke up from the doorway. Meetra rubbed her eyes, her tears finally starting to dry up, and looked at the Handmaiden. Behind the Echani were the rest of the crew, Mira, Mandalore, and Bao-Dur, all standing awkwardly as if they had wanted to interrupt, realized the gravity of the moment, and resorted themselves to watching instead.

"'Not wanting to intrude' is some bullshit and you know it, sis! Big Captain Mando'a over here made sure none of us spoke up until it looked like you were alright, but I know I woulda made things a hundred times better than whatever that third-rate pilot could spew!" Mira piped up, rushing her way into the main hold.

"Ad'ika, don't test me. I've seen Jedi blow up. It's never pretty and I did not intend to be the cause of it. Or let you be."

"Yeah, yeah, gramps. Anyways, now that all our sappy-ass feelings are out," Mira gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like 'Atton' before continuing, "Meetra, about a group hug? You look like you could use somebody, or a bunch of somebodies, holding you right about now."

The Exile in question looked around at the motley crew she'd assembled so far on her quest. They might all have been drawn to her for different reasons, but she didn't see any doubt or judgment in their eyes from the display she'd put on. She realized that it had been her first breakdown in forever, but she could worry later about what that meant for her emotional state. Right now, she saw a bunch of open arms that needed filling.

"Alright everybody, pile in. But be gentle on me, I'm getting old." She smirked, whole body exhausted from the sheer force of her _emotions_ , as she opened her weary arms in welcome and allowed the warmth of her companions to spread through her body and soul.

"Bah, if you're growing old, I must be old as the trees on Kashyyk." Kreia grumbled, conspicuously keeping out of the huddle around Meetra.

"Come now, Ancient One. Time passing is a fact of life. We should enjoy it while we last." Bao-Dur quipped, putting his still-Zabrak hand around Kreia and pulling her in against her will.

"Statement: Master, watching this display of affection sickens the core of my very memory. Lamentation: If I were not assured that you lack the skill and materials to repair my chassis afterwards, I would aim my weaponry at myself, and destroy all my sensors so that I could not see nor feel the emotion in this room. Explanation: I would blow all you flesh sacs to bits first, but alas my programming does not allow it, therefore I must stew in self-hatred. Lamentation: Why has the Maker forsaken me so." HK-47 had appeared powered-off when the crew had returned to the ship amidst the firefight, but he had obviously only been in low-power mode and could no longer resist the expression of his dejection.

"Before you leave, fellow droid, allow me to escape this cacophony as well." A large, hovering remote, Goto's parting gift as they'd escaped the space-yacht, zipped across the main hold from his place into the small cabinet that usually house HK-47 alone, and threw down the door between the droids and the sentients getting all mushy. There was no time for emotions when ensuring the fate of the Republic, but there was not much that could be done in hyperspace at any rate. Let them have their _laughs_ and their _happiness_. The Republic needed the sentients in top fighting form.

G0-T0 could not lie to himself, seeing the people of the Rupublic happy, especially those he had thrown his full trust behind, brought a tear to his hologram, but no one could ever know.

As Meetra let herself be enveloped, she heard beeps sounding from down the hallway to the engine room, which meant the only missing member of the party had finally joined in on the occasion.

T3-M4 raised two spanners in passable approximations of arms and pushed himself against Atton, pressing the huddle a bit tighter, and stabbing sharp corners into the back of the pilot without care.

" _I approve of this_ _combined-forces_ _operation to donate warmth to the master, despite the pilot presenting a rotund barrier to my contribution to the objective._ _Allow me to assist._ _"_

"Hey, watch it you box of bolts! I can have you melted down into scrap metal easy as _this!"_

Meetra laughed, a genuine peal of laughter this time coming from her very core, and just for a minute, with her ragtag band of world-savers around her pressed in snugly, feeling the _warmth_ of the lives who'd each decided to ease her burden in their own little ways, she thought that unlike every other time before, she might actually end up with a happy ending at the end of this journey.

Of course, she knew she'd jinxed it the microsecond the thought crossed her mind.

* * *

This is part of a larger universe I'm building ever-so-slowly with an eventual goal of spanning KOTOR 1 all the way to the Revan novel. Pretty much the whole reason I'm doing this is that I did not like the plot of the Revan novel and its portrayal of Meetra at all, cause she's atleast 50x more powerful than what they reduce her to in that. This story spawned out of 1(one) bullet point I had in Meetra's bio, which I'm building to make sure I don't contradict myself (too much atleast) when I actually sit down and write the damn thing. The exact, offhand note about her personality that I turned into a prompt for a full one-shot?  
-depressed (hollow, unlike revan's anxiety), copes better as time goes on, resurfaces upon discovering first force-sensitive in kotor 2 party  
yeah, I have no idea how that small prompt snowballed to what this became either.

The other reason I'm doing this is that I took my ADHD meds for a 9:30 midterm and I have nothing due today so I spent my whole day writing instead of doing productive stuff like 'studying' or 'going outside'. Worth tbh. As long as I say so in chat.

Serious note though, I've been through a depression-causing episode (didn't nuke a planet though thankfully) and it's hard to explain to regular people what depression makes you feel like. It's not a deeper form of sadness, per se, it's a deeper form of hollowness, emptiness. Kinda like that moment of disbelief when someone (like a sports team) you're cheering for misses out by just a teensy bit. Besides the prompt above, the idea that the force can manifest as anything drew me fully into finding one way that the Exile could become a void/wound in the force as she's revealed to be late in the game. Also, I always love writing about stuff like this in a way that it makes sense for regular people. If I can drive even a small bit of understanding in the world, you know, that's great.

P.S. Yeah Atton's good at talking about one thing and one thing only: PAZAAK BABY! Even when he's trying to stop a Force void from imploding... can't hate if it works I guess ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
